After we moved house, Steve the Mac wouldn't talk to any of the other computers; especially unfortunate as he's the only machine fluent in (scuzzy old) scsi, which is what the indestructible scanner talks. A few failed network solutions later and now I'm logging onto it through the webserver before saving the files to a disk with some space on it for editing. And Steve doesn't like waking up enough to do that, even. So getting up the last fewweek's strips has been palaver-ish, you know?
Not that that's any excuse really.
Getting better is straightforward enough; panels 1 & 6 are set in my workplace, panel 2's vandalised trees are by Florence Park and on my commute route, panel 4 is a vet's in Ealing and panel 5 features my lovely anti-breast-cancer pants. The dead badger is real -- found on Donnington Bridge Road. It made me very sad.
Happy Birthday is dedicated to Clive, my mother's husband, and also to the four or five other people I know whose birthdays have been singled out by disaster, natural or man-made. I've run a bit fast-and-loose with the truth in it; in fact, the person wearing stunning green shoes was not me, but a random stranger, and the people down the pub was actually just one person down the pub (thank you, concourse); and I was actually in the Sony shop when I heard about the Srebrenica burials although my favourite shoes shop does play the radio, so ...
Oh, and I'm wearing "art" shoes, not "shu" as depicted in the strip.